


A White Limousine

by Adlocked



Series: Check Yes Or No [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Sadly, Teenlock, continuation of a series, lotta insecure sherlock, reference to the downey films, sherlolly is one-sided
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-27 23:59:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 19
Words: 8,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5069956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adlocked/pseuds/Adlocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the second part of my 'Check Yes or No' series which you can find on AO3 too. The characters are in their last year before college and now Irene's acting weird. Sherlock's recruiting John and Mary to help him find out just what, or who, is behind Irene's sudden change. And he won't stop until he gets there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dressed All In White

"Mr. Holmes."

  
Sherlock rolled his eyes at the voice but still smiled, unable not to in her presence and bowed his head to the woman before him.

  
"Miss Adler."

  
She laughed and tossed her brown curls back, throat bared to him and giving him a chance to look over how his Irene had changed over the summer.

  
Unlike the last nine summers where they had stayed together almost every day at Sherlock's flat, Irene's parents took her away the second the school bell had rang and whisked her off to France or Italy or somewhere far away from him and he hated it.

  
None of the others here were as fun or as bright as her and they definitely didn't understand him like she did. Course, he did make two or three friends, but he merely notched them as pity friends. Friends that were also alone that summer and needed someone to hang out with and Sherlock was the only one around.

  
He'd bet that once they started school, they'd forget all about him. And now that he had Irene, well, he would forget all about them too.

  
She'd changed while she was away. Her brown curls were lighter, more warm and actually looked brown instead of black. He felt a pang at that. He'd liked when they had similiar hair colours, liked how close they were; even in appearances.

  
Irene had a tan too, skin darker and olive-toned like she bathed in the sun everyday on vacation. The freckles he and her had spent an afternoon counting disappeared under her tan and another pang of sadness hit him.

  
She was changing far too much for his liking. What if she had changed mentally too; and no longer liked him?

  
Desperate now, he look over every inch of her for something that was familiar to him. Something he could hold onto.

  
Her eyes. Her eyes were open and staring back into his and they were the same. The unhuman blue that flickered with gold and made him feel safe.

  
"Irene..."

  
The woman in front of him, for she was a woman now if her measurements were to indicate anything, (32-24-34) seemed to understand just what was going through his mind.

Seemed to comprehend just how nervous and scared he was about losing one of the only people that didn't consider him a freak and just let him look her over.

  
And when he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers, she kissed him back to reassure him that yes, she was there and yes, she still loved him.


	2. A Friend In John

"Nice one, mate!"

  
It was a familiar voice, though one he could not immediately place. But nonetheless, it made him straighten up and turn away from Irene to face where the voice had come from.

  
Oh. John Watson. A short boy whom he had become temporary friends with over the summer while Irene was gone and whom Sherlock thought he had already been forgotten by.

  
Apparently though, he got that wrong as the stocky blond made his way over with a small grin and offered his hand to Irene.

  
"John Hamish Watson." He introduced himself to Irene, grinning wider at her and Sherlock made a note that perhaps, he wasn't so bad as he didn't take his eyes off of Irene's face when he saw her.

  
"Irene Adler." She replied rather seductively back, fluttering her lashes before chuckling and lowering her gaze. "Though, saying your middle name is a new one. I think you're the first one who's voluntarily told me their's within ten seconds of our meeting."

  
Sherlock glared at Irene as she flirted, only getting a wink and smirk in return before she drapped his arm over her front. "Woman." He muttered.

  
John's ears were turning red as he stared at Irene, rubbing the back of his neck. "I thought I'd try it... Mary said the same thing but, you know, she's my girlfriend and-"

  
"It's silly." A higher voice said from behind them all, causing heads to turn to see a shorter girl with her hands on her hips; shooting daggers at John. "Though do go on, what were you going to say?"

  
"Nothing, just that you're fantastic." John squeaked out before going and wrapping an arm around the little blonde who smiled.

  
"OK." Mary decided to accept the compliment and kissed his cheek before frowning. "You need to shave."

  
I'm growing a mustache." John replied with a shrug before squeezing her a little. "Mary, this is my friend Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes."

  
"Pleasure."

  
Sherlock only nodded, looking at the two students before him and wondering why John introduced him like that. Why he still wanted to be his friend. Then he felt a sharp jab in his chest and saw Irene scowling at him.

  
"Irene Adler... And forgive the dear boy next to me. He has yet to understand manners. But, I'm trying to teach him... As you can tell; work in progress."

  
He growled but pulled her closer to him. "Yes, yes... Nice to meet you too, Mary."

  
Mary looked at Sherlock like he was an experiment before grinning and looking up at John. "I like him."


	3. The Woman

Sherlock sat in his English class, fiddling with a pencil and shooting looks at Irene who was five desk in front of him and three desks to the right. Seated right between James Moriarty and Sebastian Moran and looking like she was enjoying every second.

  
He didn't want her anywhere near those two, not when he knew what they were capable of and while he had seen Irene prove herself more than capable of being able to defend herself- the fight with Anderson specifically sticking out in his mind Sherlock was still quite paranoid that something would happen and he didn't like feeling like that.

  
The teacher had decided to let everyone chat for the rest of the period, since they had no homework, and while other people had switched desks to talk to who they wanted to; Irene remained in her seat.

  
And she was ignoring him. Didn't even look his way when she walked in three minutes late. And now, now-

  
A sudden pain shot through his hand, making him wince and look down to see the pencil he had been twirling with broken in two and several splinters were sticking out of his hand.

  
Oh. He was mad?

  
Another glance at Irene and he knew he was right. He was mad, furious even. And when James reached up and stroked Irene's cheek, Sherlock envisioned strangling Moriarty with his bare hands.

  
He clenched his jaw before standing up and striding towards the door, ignoring the Professor and shoving the door open before walking out and slamming it behind him.  



	4. Make Me Bleed

Damn, Irene! Damn that infernal woman who was playing with him. Not even five hours ago, he was holding her and kissing her and knowing she was his. But now? Now Irene was acting like he didn't even exist.

  
The nearest wall served as a punching bag for him; slamming his fist into the concrete repeatedly before blood started to run down his skin and staining the white paint.

  
It hurt, but he didn't care. The idea that Irene was toying with him, fooling around with Moriarty or Moran or both hurt far worse than the nine broken bones in his hand.

  
Damn that woman...

  
His forehead rested on the wall before a hand rested on his back and he turned around, eyes alight with fury before seeing John Watson standing in front of him.

  
"What do you want?" Sherlock snapped, looking at the blond and ignoring the pain. It didn't matter, it really didn't.

  
"You okay? I think the wall's winning." He seemed to be joking, but he wasn't sure so he just stared at him. John gave him a little smile before shrugging. "You should probably go to the infirmary. It looks like you might need stitches."

  
Sherlock continued to stare at John before grunting. "Yeah, probably."

  
"C'mon... I'll walk you there. Make you don't try to damage anymore walls."

  
John seemed sincere, and Sherlock was in need a someone that wasn't just playing with his mind, so he nodded and started to head to the infirmary; John walking next to him and not saying anything.

  
It was peaceful right now, and Sherlock, Sherlock liked it.


	5. I'm Broken

Lunch was nice; a quiet affair with just Sherlock, John and Mary. The nurse was a pleasant woman named Miss Sawyer who had stitched up Sherlock's hand quickly and insisted they both call her Sarah before giving them both a lollipop and sending them off to lunch awhile later.

She even went ahead and excused them both for being out of class and let them stay in the infirmary for the rest of the period.

Mary was nice enough to not mention the stitches on his hand or the fact that Irene walked past them to join another table without so much as looking their way.

If anything, she completely ignored it, instead focusing on Sherlock and John; chiding both of them on how little they were eating.

"You're as thin as a rail, Sherlock. It's a wonder one can't see bones sticking out of you! And, you John, you're a rugby player. You won't last one practice if you eat like that."

There was a motherly tone in her voice that made both boys feel guilty and promise they'd eat more tonight.

"That OK with you, mum?" John's comment made Sherlock snort into his hand before sneaking a glance at Mary who was smiling fondly at the other blond.

"Sure, tease me for wanting you alive... Sherlock, you're in anatomy, right? When John dies, do his autopsy for me. I want proof it was because he was starving."

"Course..." Sherlock nodded, looking all serious and nodding at Mary. "Mum."

John burst into a fit of laughter, Sherlock following soon after as Mary just sat there, shaking her head and smiling.

None of them noticed the girl in the purple top and black skirt staring at them sadly or that moments later, a hand wrapped her wrist and yanked her attention away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Irene and her outfit- http://images2.fanpop.com/image/photos/14600000/Troian-Avery-Bellisario-Wallpaper-pretty-little-liars-tv-show-14627499-1024-768.jpg  
> Mary and her outfit- http://vignette1.wikia.nocookie.net/ahighschoolrockstar/images/a/a4/Stefanie_Scott_077.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20130407071037  
> John and his outfit- http://images.starpulse.com/pictures/2014/03/18/previews/Jack%20Gleeson11-20140318-93.jpg  
> Sherlock and his outfit- http://www3.pictures.zimbio.com/gi/Charlie+McDermott+Academy+Television+Arts+jpJpCjKPxZAl.jpg  
> Sarah Sawyer and her outfit- http://www1.pictures.zimbio.com/fp/Isla+Fisher+Sporty+Sexy+Studio+City+jNxYsoZOZB9l.jpg


	6. Why He Wonders

It took Sherlock a few days to realize that his new friend from over the summer was popular among the eighth years as well as the rest of the school.

  
Most students knew John and called out greetings to him whenever they walked by or gave him a high-five.

  
As the days went on, and Sherlock kept spending time with John; the two walking to class together and eating breakfast, lunch and dinner together, eventually people started to greet Sherlock as well.

  
But not the person that Sherlock was desperately wanting to see.

  
English class, one that used to be his favourite, he now dreaded more than having to spend time with Mycroft.

  
Irene didn't speak to him at all, or look at him, and when he walked in a few minutes late; his white button down stained with ink from a pen, she laughed with the rest.

  
John didn't seem to have any idea what had happened, or want to discuss it, only saying 'Women are strange, mate. Best leave her be.' whenever Irene was mentioned or he noticed that Sherlock was staring at her.

  
Mary however, was a godsend to Sherlock when it came with Irene. She seemed to think that perhaps it wasn't his fault at all, but Irene's. Maybe she had something going on in her life, or wanted something different.

  
When she found out that Irene had spent her summer in France, the idea that Irene met someone else came up and while Sherlock hated the idea with every fiber of his being, he had to admit that Mary might have been on the right track.

  
"You need to talk to her..." Mary always ended their conversations with that phrase, insisting that if Sherlock just tried to talk to Irene, something might happen. He might get closure.

  
But he could never get close to her, could never seem to find her alone to talk to her. He hadn't even been to her house so he couldn't just stop over like he imagined him doing once or twice.

  
Moriarty was always around her, and if not him, Moran would take his place. Their arms around her waist, keeping her close or within grabbing distance. Several times Sherlock had to resist the urge to punch one of them until they were unconscious and then talk to Irene.

  
He'd never get the chance to ask her why: why did she change her mind so quickly? What happened in five hours that would make her so closed off and cold to someone that she once so adamantly insisted she loved.

  
Some higher power up there took pity on him though, it seemed, as he found her alone in the library late one night. It was a secluded area that one could only see from a certain area in the library and it was right near the school's darkroom.

  
Knowing he'd probably never get such a good chance again, he took it and stormed over to her; bag landing on top of the table with a loud thump! that Irene's head jerked up in surprise.

  
She was more beautiful than he had recalled, especially with her hair pulled up and red lips. And for a split moment, she was smiling at him. She looked happy to seem him.

  
And then in an instant, the smile was gone and she was staring at him blankly. "What do you want, Holmes?"

  
Irene's voice was cold and felt like a dagger had gone through his stomach. What had happened to his Irene, the Irene who teased him to the point where his ears were turning red. Where was she?

  
"We need to talk, Irene..." He looked at her, hands sliding into his jean pockets. "I'm not leaving till we do."

  
It seemed that she was thinking it over before she sighed and stood up, pushing the chair back and heading to the dark room before turning to look back at him.

  
"Well? Are you coming or not?"

  
Sherlock's lips twitched as he resisted the urge to smile and followed her into the red-lit room and making a mental note to thank Mary for her advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Irene's hair and makeup- https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/f8/a7/49/f8a7490d127d4b1c8bfb75b894a92ff7.jpg


	7. Devil in Her Angel Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Supes long chapter, sorry for that, but the next ones will be a little bit shorter, back to their original kind of lengths.

Irene sat down on the edge of the counter in front of him, her long legs sprawled out in front of her with the ankles crossed.

  
"Well, Mr. Holmes, you wanted to talk to me, so let's talk..."

  
Her voice was warm again, something he welcomed as he took a step towards her. She was different from the girl he had grown up with; no longer wearing the same colour every day from her curls to her socks.

  
And while Sherlock was one of the very first to admit he hated changed, with Irene, it was good. Except when she changed to ignore him.

  
"Well? Are you just going to stand there, staring at me or will there be actual talking going on here?" She was teasing him, and for a moment, he had forgotten about the past eighteen days.

  
Then Moriarty's arms wrapped around her in his mind's eye and he recalled it all.

  
"Why?" It was a simple question, one she should have no trouble answering. Why did she do this to him, why did she pretend on their first day back if she didn't feel the same. _Why?_

  
His grey eyes searched her bright blue ones, hoping to find an answer there but finding only confusion and sadness.

  
"I... I don't know what you mean, Holmes." The waver in her voice was enough to assure him that yes, she knew exactly what he meant but didn't want to say it aloud.

  
"You never lied to me before, Irene, why start now?" Sherlock couldn't disguise the own disgust in his voice, his fists shaking with anger. "Why did you leave!" He shouted at her, wanting her to explain what was so wrong with him that she wanted to escape him.

  
When Irene whimpered, Sherlock 's fury left him as he took in his surroundings.

  
Irene's hair was wound around his hair, her head forced back and lips parted.

  
"Sherlock... Please..." She whispered and he felt his stomach drop, revolted with himself for hurting her. She had hurt him, but that didn't mean he had to return the favour.

  
If anything, he could accept her leaving him if only she could say why and he could say good-bye.

  
"Irene..." He let go of her, but still stood in front of her, towering over her. "Just tell me why. What did I do to make you leave me?"

  
It was her turn to touch him, her hand going up and stroking his cheek with her thumb.

  
"You poor boy... You really don't know, do you? It's not you, Sherlock, not you at all... It's me. I did something horrible and now it's caught up to me. Just-Can you accept that we can't be together anymore?"

  
His hand captured hers, keeping it in contact with his skin. "Not until you tell me why you left... I've done my share of horrible things, or have you forgotten? Irene..." The constant presence of Moriarty and Moran start to make sense. "Is someone making you do this?"

  
"What?" She blinked, stammering for an answer which meant he had found it. She'd left him because she was being made to, not because she wanted to.

  
"Irene..." He turned his head slightly, pressing his lips to the inside of her wrist. "Anything you do, I can handle... Just don't leave me."

  
With that, he lowered his head and found her lips, kissing his Irene and pulling her close. After a moment's hesitation, she kissed him back and grabbed at his tie; wrapping it around her hand.

  
His hand moved from covering hers to grabbing the fabric of her white romper at her waist and yanking her closer to him. He hadn't been big on affection till he met Irene, and still it was only with her that he wanted to show her how much he cared about her.

  
She was always so soft and warm and accepted every touch he gave her. Even now, when she was trying to keep herself away from him, knowing that he was suffering because of it, she touched him and reassured him that he was what she wanted even if she couldn't have him.

  
As always, it was Sherlock who pulled away with Irene kissing him until he stopped it.

  
All of his senses were in overdrive with her: the taste of her strawberry lipstick, the heat of her hand on his cheek and her hips rubbing against his. He could smell nothing but the jasmine and mint oils on her skin and in her hair and see only the hazy glow of Irene. She filled his mind completely and it was utterly blissful.

  
"Please... I need you." He choked out, not wanting to admit he was dependent on the girl in front of him for keeping him sane.

  
Even though he had John and through him, Mary, Irene was his anchor. The others were friends, yes, but Irene was his. She knew his secrets and worries and would make them go away with her touches or words. No one else could take her place.

  
"Sherlock, please believe I'm doing this for you... Irene surged up and kissed him again before she pulled away and attacked his tie with her fingers before throwing it to the floor. "I'm yours and you're mine..." Irene promised before she started to under his white button-up.

  
The shirt soon joined his tie and it clicked with what Irene was planning to do the moment her lips wrapped around his neck and her red nails scraped along his stomach. It was unexpected to say the least, but that didn't mean he was opposed to the movements. Especially when her teeth scraped his collarbone.

  
She sucked and licked and bit his neck till it was good and raw and marked red by her mouth before her thumbs stopped swirling circles around and over his now rock-hard nipples, and moved to his belt.

  
"You and your incessant need to look presentable, Sherlock..." Irene chided as she got down to her knees in one fluid motion and yanked the belt out of it's loops. "You're a student, not a businessman, look," She unbuttoned his trousers.

  
"The," She unzipped them.

  
"Part." A tug had them around his ankles and his half-stiff cock free, bobbing in front of her face. "Much better..." The purr was followed by her hand wrapping around the base of his length and squeezing it softly before stroking upwards, making him groan.

  
"Like that, Mr. Holmes? Good, because that's the only noise I want to hear from you, understood?" Irene snapped as she continued to move her hand up and down his length; twisting her wrist on the way up.

  
He wanted to moan, make a noise to let her know that he was enjoying her touch but knew her well enough that if she didn't want to hear noise and if she heard it, she'd probably get upset with him and he didn't want that. Not when he just got her back.

  
So he just stared down at him, biting on his bottom lip as he watched her lean forward and start to lick the head of his cock.

  
Each stroke of her tongue was pure shock, pleasure shooting to his stomach and groin and he curled his hands into fists to drive pain there from where his nails were digging into his palms to keep himself quiet.

  
The damned girl seemed to know exactly what she was doing, looking up at him with wide doe-eyes before her mouth wrapped around his entire head and he had to think of Mycroft in a tutu to keep himself from shouting at the intense feeling of pleasure her mouth was giving her.

  
He couldn't resist it, his hand going and tangling itself in her hair. A quick yank and her lips were all the way against the base of his cock and she was sucking; Sherlock wanting to resist shouting but unable to letting her name slip from his lips.

  
"God, Irene..." So much pressure was built up inside him and Irene, wonderful Irene, didn't move, only continued to suck and stare up at him with those blue eyes.

  
Sherlock didn't even realize that she was moving her hands until one was on his waist and the other was fondling his sack; making him give a strangled cry.

  
Her mouth was so warm and wet and then he saw only white as pure pleasure shot through his body and he felt his orgasm fill up her mouth, shoot down her throat and she was swallowing around him, adding to the pleasure.

  
She pulled off, licking him clean before standing up and kissing him again. Sherlock could taste himself on her, keeping her lips still on his with his hand still tangled in her hair.

  
He didn't want to let her go, didn't want to lose her again but then she pulled away from him and rested her hand on his lower abdomen.

  
"Sherlock... Trust me, OK? I love you, only you but right now, I need you to hate me... So, please? Pretend with me.. One month-just one month-and then you and I can be back together again, OK?"

  
He found himself nodding, trusting her. "All right... One month, but after that, you have to tell me everything. All right?"

  
Irene kissed him again, both of them knowing it was her way of promising him before he pulled away and ran his hands over her sides.

  
"Get dressed, Mr. Holmes... And find me in one month."

  
Ten minutes later, a disheveled Sherlock Holmes walked out of the darkroom with a smile on his face and plans formulating in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Irene's outfit- http://www.cicihot.com/media/catalog/product/cache/1/image/0dc2d03fe217f8c83829496872af24a0/c/l/clothing-dresses-alw-tb20412_white_1.jpg  
> Sherlock's outfit- http://www.aceshowbiz.com/images/wennpic/charlie-mcdermott-2009-disney-s-abc-television-group-summer-press-tour-party-04.jpg


	8. Chapter 8

Greg Lestrade took his time with changing out of his rugby uniform, keeping an eye on John Watson every so often before he finally was in his plainclothes and just pretending to rearrange things in his locker.

  
When John was done and grabbing his mobile, Greg seized the opportunity and followed him outside the locker room before grabbing him by the upper-arm and dragging him off into the nearest empty classroom.

  
"Since when do you and Holmes have a death wish?" He snapped at the shorter man, trying to figure out why his teammate wanted to get killed.

  
"Wha-I don't understand." John stammered, looking up at his team-captain in utter confusion. The only dangerous thing Sherlock and him were planning on doing were getting back at Moriarty and Mary was the only other person who knew of their plans and she wouldn't blab.

  
"You know exactly what I mean, Watson. I heard you, in the library? You taking on Moriarty is likely going to get you killed and I need you to win finals, so whatever plans you came up with are at an end." Greg growled, releasing John before turning to leave.

  
He'd realize how stupid he was being and stop. The cup was the most important thing after all.

  
"...No."

  
The single word was perhaps the loudest and single worst thing Greg had ever heard in all his life.

  
"What!"

  
"I said, no. Sherlock's my friend, Lestrade. I made him a promise and I'm not hanging him out to dry. So, either turn us in, let us do it or, if you're so worried, help us. We could use you."

  
Greg stared at the blond. Had he taken too many hits to the head to make him think that he'd ever agree to such a notion? Of course he wouldn't turn John in, that'd end up with him being off the team.

  
But just letting him go through with the plan, well, he'd probably lose John anyways. He was screwed on both ends.

  
"...Fine. But you're dead if we lose the cup because of this."

  
John smiled at Greg, laughing as he nudged the team captain's shoulder with his fist.

  
"I wouldn't expect anything less from you."

  
Greg begrudgingly smiled back at the shorter boy before nodding and walking off with him to go find Sherlock Holmes and discuss his plan for James Moriarty.


	9. The Trap Is Set

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And waits for it's prey..

It was a week before Sherlock and his 'team' as Greg liked to call them, were able to set their plan in motion. Mary who was a very vital part, had been sick and therefore put a delay on putting everything into motion. But she was better now which meant that it was the perfect time to get Irene back and James Moriarty gone.

  
It started in the boys' dormitory with Mary, the smallest of them all, getting tucked away under James' bed while the rest of the school was at lunch. Greg went through with the next step, getting rough with the rugby team near James' table and 'spilling' tea on Irene's white skirt and his plate of spaghetti onto James's lap.

  
John started the laughter, but the entire cafeteria soon joined in before James, Irene and Sebastian walked out of the lunch room to take care of their clothes. Sherlock got started on the next phase, dropping a tracker into Sebastian's left-behind bookbag as he walked by to throw away his trash.

  
If all was going according to plan, Mary should be hearing them in a few minutes and then coming back to brief the others on what she heard.

  
At least, that was the idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mary's outfit- http://cache2.asset-cache.net/gc/466669392-stefanie-scott-attends-insidious-chapter-3-gettyimages.jpg?v=1&c=IWSAsset&k=2&d=GkZZ8bf5zL1ZiijUmxa7QY0IzJFOaTR%2F2QX%2Fbj9V69TmsKr02JAmXSZQBS3q2G0uQ7SdO%2B%2BiwXlI3f8sQyTvpA%3D%3D  
> John's outfit- https://americaneagleoutfitters.files.wordpress.com/2013/11/img_01861.jpg  
> Irene's outfit- i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2014/01/04/article-2533878-1A6B645A00000578-46_634x766.jpg  
> Greg's outfit- http://www3.pictures.zimbio.com/gi/Patrick+Schwarzenegger+Teen+Vogue+Young+Hollywood+9RsEyaJRa-6l.jpg  
> Sherlock's outfit- http://www3.pictures.zimbio.com/gi/Charlie+McDermott+Variety+4th+Annual+Power+JxTJ2zEIwcEl.jpg  
> James' outfit- http://41.media.tumblr.com/dedb35dd38b4fcdb3bbbad3a2fabdf79/tumblr_mlo09tGANr1s01fsdo1_500.jpg  
> Sebastian's outfit- http://www.dis411.net/wp-content/uploads/2015/05/cast-girl-meets-world-pics-138237_1731.png


	10. Everything is Revealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm enjoying writing this and I hope you're enjoying reading this! Thank y'all!

James stormed into the dormitory, tugging off his suitcoat before throwing it on the floor and working furiously on undoing the shirt underneath it. Sebastian entered a few seconds later with Irene who was unusually quiet for her part.

  
They watched in silence as James finally got his shirt off before starting to undo his tie.

  
"They'll pay for this." He snarled before flinging the tie at the bed where it dropped a few inches short from the duvet covering and Mary's face.

  
"I'm sure it was an accident, James." There was Irene's voice, soft and calming but it had no effect on the black-haired man.

  
"No, it wasn't. I've seen Lestrade do far more riskier things than try and balance his lunch tray with more people attacking him than just his friends. He did this on purpose. No doubt a scheme of your half-wit ex-boyfriend's." He sneered before toeing his shoes off.

  
"Don't you dare insult Sherlock!" Irene shouted, taking a step towards the half-naked boy. "He's smarter than you could ever be..."

  
The was the sound of flesh hitting flesh and a cry that had Mary wincing.

  
Irene stepped away from James, not daring to raise a hand to touch the smarting skin of her face. He smelled weakness and punished for showing it.

  
"You watch yourself, Irene... Or have you forgotten your place? If you don't want your 'sweet Sherlock' to know what you did with that boy in France, you'll do your best to remember I own you. Understood?"

  
"Yes." She bit out the words, her hate for the bastard growing. "Now, I have to go change and send this out to be dry-cleaned."

  
"And let you have a chance to talk to your little bitch?"

  
Sebastian's voice startled Mary, making her flinch and scoot further underneath the bed. It was rough and hard, like it was the pure embodiment of gravel.

  
"Sebby's right, Irene... You're not leaving one of our sights. It's not that I don't trust you, it's just that well, I don't."

  
Irene huffed, crossing her arms and glaring at Moriarty.

  
"And what, exactly am I supposed to wear?"

  
"Oh, I have something perfect in mind..."

  
James smiled at Irene in a way that made her blood run cold and even Mary could tell that the brunette was completely and utterly screwed.


	11. Think of Irene

Mary sat down next to Sherlock a few seconds before the bell rang and turned to tell him exactly what she had heard.

  
Unfortunately for the two of them, Sherlock wasn't paying any attention to her. Instead, he was looking directly at the doorway where Irene Adler stood in a baggy white pajama shirt and wild hair that looked severely similar to the state he'd left Irene with after the encounter in the red room.

  
There were marks on her neck and Sherlock immediately recognized four of them as bite marks.

  
The teacher said nothing about her appearance, only glanced at Irene before telling the class it was a free-period as she had tests to grade and their class was ahead of the others.

  
Mary took the oppertunity to pinch Sherlock's shoulder, getting his attention before leaning forward.  
"He's blackmailing her."

  
Sherlock stared at the blonde, trying to comprehend what was just said. It almost sounded like she had just said that Irene was being blackmailed.

  
"-And apparently it had something to do with Irene in France-"

  
He held up his hand, stopping her.

  
"Thank you, Mary. I've got all I need."

  
The blonde might have continued to talk but Sherlock didn't bother to listen. He needed to find Irene before dinner and confront her. Dammit, why couldn't she have justed talk to him instead of having to lie...

  
_Didn't she trust him?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Irene's outfit- http://images.urbanoutfitters.com/is/image/UrbanOutfitters/35058940_041_g?$mlarge$&defaultImage=


	12. When You're Gone

Sherlock Holmes watched Irene Adler leave her last class before dinner, grabbing her by the arm and wrapping his hand around her mouth to keep her quiet before he pulled her into the empty classroom and quickly locked the door as he let her go.

The slap across his face was unexpected, as the was the blood starting to trickle down his cheek. No doubt from the ring she was wearing on her hand. When did she get that? Never mind, he had more important things to discuss with her. Such as why she didn't trust him.

"I asked you for one month, Sherlock and you couldn't even do that.." Irene hissed, raising her arm to strike him again. "What the bloody hell is your problem?"

"You are my problem, Irene Adler." Sherlock growled, fingers wrapping around her wrist as she swung and keeping her from hitting him. "You and your ability to make me stop thinking about everything but you, even when you're not even here. You and your ability to hide things from me. Now, I'm sick of your lying and your 'one month'. I want to know what Moriarty has on you. Something happened in France and he has proof of it, doesn't he? So, here's what's going to happen. You're going to tell me what happened and he's not going to touch you ever again. Understood?"

She was attempting to tug her arm free from his grasp, glaring at him before she looked into his eyes and saw that he wasn't going to budge. He was still in love with her and he wasn't going to stop doing reckless, idiotic things until he found out what he wanted to know.

"Fine... But it's your fault when you hate me." Irene whispered before slumping against him, giving up the fight.

He held onto her, hand leaving her wrist to smooth the wild mess of her curls. She'd never given up before, not on anything. To see her just completely give in, something was wrong.

"Trust me, Irene... Just, tell me what happened?" Sherlock whispered, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

"There was a tourist guide in France, King. He was nice and sweet and so kind to me. We quickly became friends and on my last night, he took me to see the Eiffel Tower... And I dunno, maybe it was the height or view or something, but when he kissed me, I kissed him back."

It was then Irene pulled away from him, hugging herself. He wanted to reach out after her but found himself unable to do so. The image of Irene with someone else was all that was in his head and he couldn't shake it away. No matter how bad he wanted to.

"I realised that it wasn't you, and that I wanted it to be you. That I wanted to be standing in the top of the tower with you, not King, so I stopped it. And told him that I didn't want anything like that. That was the end of it. I came back to England the next day, came to you."

"But?"  
"But after I saw you that morning, James cornered me and showed me photographs of King and I kissing. Made me an offer. Break up with you or he'd show them to you. I-I thought it'd be easier, Sherlock, to just let it go without you knowing why... Than have you know I had a moment of weakness."

"Did you ever doubt us? Did you ever think that you would be better off with King?"

Irene laughed, finally turning to look at him and he was glad to see that she was smiling again. Even if she was sad in those eyes, she was still smiling at him.

"I tell you I kissed another man and you worry that I doubted our relationship? Of course not... I think-I think it was just a combination of the altitude, the view and missing you. When he kissed me, it made me realize just how much I wanted it to be you. No one else. If anything, it made me want to be with you more."

"Then why wouldn't you just tell me! I could handle it!"

"Oh yes, that's a lovely conversation. 'Hullo, Irene, how was your holiday?' 'Oh, it was lovely, Mr. Holmes. I went and kissed someone else, but don't you worry. You're still the only one for me. How are your parents?'"

Sherlock cleared his throat, not wanting to admit she was right. He wouldn't have reacted that well if that had happened. But still- "You didn't have to go ahead and let James Moriarty blackmail you! We could have talked about it in English, or something."

"He didn't really give me a choice. I had about a minute to choose between ending us or letting the photos end up everywhere in school and embarrassing you."

"You and your stupid need to care about me being embarrassed." Sherlock growled, closing the distance between the two of them.

"You and your stupid ego." Irene hissed back before reaching up and tugging him down so his lips were just an inch away from hers.

"You don't hate me?" She whispered.

"Never..." He mumbled before kissing her deeply and holding her tight.


	13. To Smile Again

Dinner was a rather fun experience for the first time in a long time, Irene sitting right next to Sherlock in a fresh dress and heels and chattering happily with Mary.

Gerry was talking about England's football players with John, and who would be a good trade for the season, and Sherlock was just watching the table. Irene looked happier than he'd seen her in months and every so often, she'd squeeze his thigh as though reminding Sherlock she was real. Or perhaps reminding herself that he was real.

Mary seemed rather thrilled about Irene and Sherlock reuniting, claiming 'It was about time there was another girl here!' before the two dissolved into an in-depth talk that Sherlock ignored.

John however, was more wary than his girlfriend, looking at Irene every so often and shifting in his seat.

It was acceptable, considering what had happened but Sherlock had been hoping that his best friend and his girlfriend would become friends again.

Another squeeze on his thigh had him wrapping his arm around Irene's waist, smirking as his gaze fell on James Moriarty who was stabbing a piece of fish and glaring at Sherlock.

'Game over.' Sherlock mouthed at him before leaning over and kissing Irene's cheek. Whatever game he might have been trying to play with Sherlock, he had lost. Irene was back in his arms, France was a thing of the past and Sherlock had his friends.

Nothing could go wrong, right?


	14. Chapter 14

Wrong. Something could go very wrong. Spectacularly wrong. Disastrously wrong. And it was all Mary's fault.

She had to go and tell Irene about the Winter Formal that Sherlock had purposely been avoiding telling her about for a reason and now, with it two weeks away, it was all that was being talked about.

"-I don't see why you don't want to go, it's going to be fun." Irene insisted, stretching out on Sherlock's bed before glancing at John who was on his own. "C'mon, John... You and Mary are going, help me convince him!" She whined.

John stared at her over the book he was reading, Moby Dick, and just shook his head.

"I'm not getting in a fight with you two. Nobody wins."

Sherlock had to do his best to try and hide a grin, finding John's comment to be rather humorous.

"See, Irene? Even John's agreeing that it's pointless to go to the dance."

"I didn't say that!"

Irene shot Sherlock a glare, grabbing one of his pillows at throwing it at his head.

"You're an arse, Sherlock." She scowled as he caught the pillow and threw it back.

This time he laughed as it hit her face and she squeaked in surprise.

"Bastard!"

"You're just mad you weren't able to catch it in time." He smirked before turning to watch George walk into the dorm. "What's with the stupid look on your face?"

"I've got a date to the winter formal." He answered simply, going and nodding at Irene. She'd become a frequent visitor since getting back with Sherlock that it was just accepted by everyone that she would be in the room if he was.

"See, Sherlock! Now you have to take me." Irene insisted, getting up on her knees and hugging the pillow to her chest. "C'mon, Sherlock... You've got me on my knees, begging you. We both know that when I'm on my knees, I've never been the one begging."

Sherlock rubbed his face, staring down at his girlfriend and sighing. "Fine, I'll buy the tickets later today..."

"Ooh!" John and Gavin groaned, watching Irene fly off the bed and take Sherlock to the ground with her. There was a mess of limbs sticking out from the two them and it was rather difficult for the two friends to figure out what elbow was Irene's and what knee was Sherlock's.

There'd be pain for the couple later of course, but right now, there wasn't any. Not for Irene who was too smug from getting her way and not from Sherlock who currently was trying to do his best to hide just where Irene's hand was from the other boys' in the dorm.


	15. Chapter 15

Graham's date was a surprise to everyone, especially Sherlock who recognized the former mousy redhead as his former busmate. She was older now, and no longer hiding behind bangs. There was a confidence about her, like she knew she was someone now.

Irene recognized her too, and seemed far colder around her than Sherlock had ever seen her act.

Molly didn't seem to mind though, far too busy staring up at Graham and talking away about the upcoming formal.

The blasted thing. It was all anyone seemed to want to talk about lately.

Even Mary whom he considered the most sensible of the girls he knew, was looking forward to that night and talking with Irene every other second about what she was wearing and what her hair was going to be like.

It was exhausting have to pretend he was interested in it.

But then Irene would smile at him and whisper softly 'I'm so excited!' and he'd sigh and wrap his arm around her and promise her he was looking forward to it.

It was worth it to see her looking so happy as she went on her mobile and looked at dresses with Mary nearly every hour.

But as the time ticked on and the formal drew nearer, he started to grow a bit more agitated with the looming event.

Students and faculty alike were all abuzz with chatter about the formal and it was hard enough to go ten minutes without anyone mentioning the subject.

Finally, three days before the Formal, he announced that he was done with everything concerning the formal and that included going.  
The news, being announced in his dorm room with John and Mary and Molly and Gerard and Irene all present, was ill-received by everyone.  
John and Gerard both looked ill and Mary and Molly stared at Sherlock like he had just grown a third head.

Irene... Bloody Hell, Irene looked at him as though he had just announced the weather. There was no expression in her blue eyes other than a dullness that made his blood run cold.

It was rather unnerving how she just shrugged and flipped the page of the magazine she had been reading.

Oh, damn he was screwed.

He was going to pay for this later on.


	16. Chapter 16

And pay for it he did, as the day before the dreary dance, Irene strode over to the table and announced that she would be going to the Formal after all and that Phillip Anderson of all people, would be her date and that she did hope everyone would be polite to him.

With that news, she sat down and spread a napkin on her lap.

"You can't be serious." Mary gaped at her friend, trying to figure out what possessed Irene to do such a thing.

Irene merely tossed her curls over her shoulder and stabbed at her salad. "And why shouldn't I be? It's evident that Sherlock won't be going with me and I'll be damned if I go to this by myself. Besides, Donovan and him are off again and he was sweet when he asked me, so why not?"

Sherlock was too stunned or disgusted to say anything about her decision and just sat there in a stupor as Irene chatted easily with John and Glen and Mary and Molly until the bell rang and he was just sitting there, trying to comprehend what had just happened.


	17. Chapter 17

Sherlock sighed, rubbing his face as he sat up in bed and tugged on his curls.

Damn the woman.

He had never expected this to happen or else he wouldn't have ever decided not to go.

Or at least made sure that Anderson of all idiots, would be taking her in his place.

No, this simply wouldn't do.

Sleep would have to wait now, he thought as he climbed out of his bed and got dressed; plan already formulating in his mind.

He had work to do.


	18. Chapter 18

Sally Donovan was in the library when Sherlock sat down in front of her; hands folded in front of his chest and a rather dark scowl on his lips.

"What do you want, freak?" She spat at him, in a rather horrible mood. She'd just found out that Phillip was not going to come back to her and that he had already secured a date with Irene Adler and it was infuriating her.

"Considering that I can help you with your current dilemma, let's drop the insults and act like the civilized beings we're expected to be. You and Anderson are currently on the outs, which has resulted in a less than desirable circumstances. Now, I have a plan to reunite yourself and Anderson before the Winter Formal tonight but before I set it into motion, I shall need verbal consent that this is what you want." Sherlock explained simply, eyebrows raising up as he watched her carefully. "I can, of course, explain the plan to you but it would waste valuable time and I doubt that you would understand it anyways."

She looked rather peeved at his words before shrugging and rolling her eyes. "Whatever." Sally scoffed before standing up and collecting her things. "Just do it, got it, freak?"

He flashed her a rather sinister smirk, fingers steepling together. "Perfect." Sherlock then stood up and fixed his sports-coat before striding past her and giving a mock-salute. "La'erz."


	19. Chapter 19

Phillip Anderson headed into his dorm, stumbling back a few steps as he saw Sherlock Holmes, the freak himself, lying on his bed and staring up at the ceiling.

"What do you want, freak?" Phillip snapped, already quite pissed off at the inhuman creature on his bed.  
  
He'd have to wash his sheets, or just buy new ones when this was done.  
  
"You're going to tell Irene Adler that you're not going to be attending the Winter Formal with her and that you're going to be going with Sally Donovan as planned." The freak stated as he sat up and fixed his suit coat before standing in front of Phillip's face.  
  
If he was quite honest, he hated that Sherlock was taller than him. It forced him to look up at the damned abnormality of human nature.  
  
As though he was better.  
  
He scowled and crossed his arms, eyes narrowed to slits as he looked at the freakoid. "And why would I do that?" Phillip snarled.  
  
"Because unless you're interested in seeing Donovan with Dimmock for not only the dance but the remainder of the term and quite possibly the rest of her life, I'd remove your head from your ass and realise that she's quite possibly the only girl who will ever like you before she realises that she can get anyone she wants with a flick of the wrist." Sherlock stated simply, his brave facade faltering slightly as he realised he was talking to himself instead of Anderson.

Luckily Anderson didn't seem to notice.  
  
Irene was beautiful and funny and could have anyone she wanted and she had chosen him.  
  
And he had been so boneheaded to let her slip through his fingers...  
  
When Anderson started to speak, Sherlock held his hand up to shush. "Don't talk aloud to me... You'll lower your IQ and I don't think you can afford to be stuck in single digits." Sherlock snapped as he pushed past the other man and headed to find Irene.


End file.
